


The Taming of the Shinobi

by Uakari



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uakari/pseuds/Uakari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Training new recruits takes a toll on one's private life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taming of the Shinobi

**Author's Note:**

> Many, MANY thank yous to Eijentu, who not only provided the inspiration for this fic, but also allowed me to send her draft after draft of drivel each night until it was done and then beta'd the whole thing for me at the last minute. You are a true treasure!

“Alright you maggots, listen up and listen good! Today is your first as ninja of Shirasagi castle. Any semblance of a life you might have once had outside these walls is gone. Finished! No more late night strolls through the village with half-drunk, tittering whores, no more suckling the milk of human kindness from your mama’s tits! Your duty is now to live and die for the sake of the Amaterasu! You will fight when commanded and you will die only when you have permission! Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Fucking right! But as of right now, you pukes are unworthy of the title of Ninja! You will spend the next six weeks proving to me that you were delivered from your mother’s cunt and not her asshole! You will run, you will fight, and you will cast away any lingering notions of self, comfort, and other maggotry needs! Do you hear me?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Bullshit! You maggots hear but you don’t understand! You there! Recruit from Suwa! You were thirty seconds late to the field this morning! Do you care to explain why?”

“Sir! I apologize, sir! I turned left instead of right at the great hall and-”

“That is a shit excuse, recruit from Suwa! You have lived here for three years - why have you not memorized the layout of the castle?”

“Sir! I have only worked in the inner part of the castle and the infirmary until now, sir!”

“The infirmary is where bunny rabbits are sent to die after they’ve been mauled by wolves! Are you a bunny rabbit, recruit from Suwa?”

“Sir, I am not a bunny rabbit, sir!”

“Bullshit! Your eyes are pinker than a prolapsed asshole! How could you not be a bunny?”

“Sir!”

“Sir what?”

“Sir, I don’t know, sir!”

“Fucking right you don’t! You may be built like a brick shithouse, but you are dumber than the sum of your parts! You know less than a pigeon after six rounds of drinks and that little fucker could probably still find his way out to this field faster than you!”

“Sir!”

“You will spend the rest of today creating an _impeccable_ mental map of these grounds! You will not rest until you have memorized the location of every room, every rock, and every fucking leaf littering the pathways! Do you understand, recruit from Suwa?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“You will begin your task by giving me ten laps around the outer perimeter of the castle!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Once you have completed them, you will give me a full report of the terrain! Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Recruit from Suwa!”

“…yes, sir?”

“You will leave your boots here! The soles of your feet will know the true spirit of Shirasagi!”

“Yes… _sir_.”

* * *

“It’s nice to see you finally relaxing.”

Souma dips a hand into the warm bath water and pulls it back gingerly, admiring the rivulets of water that snake their way down the skin of her fingers and drip hesitantly from their tips. From here, she has a full vantage of both bathhouse windows and a partial view of the door in the reflection of a carefully placed mirror. One crescent _shaken_ rests to her left on the rim of the tub, and another two are hidden craftily within the wall slats behind her head. She flicks her fingers against her thumb and sends a spray of droplets scattering across the water’s surface. She grins to herself, face hidden behind a curtain of hair, before shifting her gaze. “I’m glad your highness approves.”

“Souma-”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” The corners of her mouth twitch and threaten to pull into a full-fledged smile; she bites at her bottom lip to hold them in place. She wonders if the Amaterasu – if _Kendappa_ \- knows how very much she adores this little game.

Kendappa stares petulantly at her and shifts her robe to bare one pale shoulder.

“Your majesty,” Souma attempts to look scandalized, but forgets how to halfway through and settles for looking slightly bemused, “There is a guard standing watch not three meters from the other side of that door-”

“Who is already well aware-”

“But who doesn’t need confirmation-”

Kendappa allows the robe to slip from her other shoulder. She crosses her arms about her waist to keep the fabric bunched just below the swell of her breasts, keeping most of their intricacies hidden, but revealing just enough to ensure Souma’s full and undivided attention. “You will address me here as Kendappa,” she says, using the formal low tones she normally reserves for court. The robe slips lower still and she leans forward to brace her elbows against the rim of the tub, “And you will relax while you are using my personal bathing chambers.”

“Yes, Kendappa,” Souma whispers. A hand catches her beneath the chin and draws her closer to the edge of the tub, where she is greeted with the warm smile and tender kiss she’s been craving since sunrise. Her own hand, still dripping with water, tangles carelessly into her queen’s hair, pulling at her pins and leaving long, damp streaks in its wake.

Kendappa pulls away as the last of her hair falls free. “Now, may I join you?”

“Of course,” Souma breathes, as if there were ever truly a question to answer. 

Kendappa sheds the robe she’s barely managed to keep about her waist and folds it gently over the top rung of her clothing rack. She brushes a hand across it’s embroidery and clucks her tongue in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Souma asks.

Kendappa gives the garment a final dour pat and turns her attention back toward the bath. “Nothing,” she assures Souma, “Only some dirt. I must have trod across those bloody foot prints I tried to avoid earlier in the evening.”

“Bloody footprints?” Souma repeats, “They had better not come from any of my ninja. I’ll crush them with my own hands.”

Kendappa perches at the side of the tub and smiles down at Souma. “You’re fascinating when you’re training recruits.”

Souma feels the blood boil beneath the skin of her cheeks and sinks back into the water to hide the blush. “How do you mean, my lady?” she manages to blubble out across the water’s surface.

“Oh,” Kendappa eases one leg, then the other into the steaming water, “You’re terrifying.” She settles fully into the water and pulls her feet up beneath her at the opposite end of the tub. “It’s a side I don’t often see of you, who is always so deferential and polite.” She grins wickedly, “’Sucking the milk of human kindness from your mother’s tits?’” Souma swallows thickly. “I may have to borrow that expression at court-”

“Your M- …Kendappa, please,” the horrible flush is rising again in her cheeks and Souma wonders for a second if, between the heat of the bathwater and the heat of her embarrassment, her blood might actually boil all away. “It’s necessary to foster respect for their commanding officers.”

“But you like it, though.”

“I-” Souma’s mouth snaps shut. Her lips pull into some horrible approximation of a pucker that’s trying to eat itself while crawling sideways off her face. Her hands ball into fists below the water. “Maybe a little.”

“I know.” Kendappa grins and scoots forward. Her knees force their way between Souma’s shins and lift them to rest on either side of her waist. Souma needs no encouragement here; she flexes a knee around Kendappa’s back to pull her closer still. “I must admit, I quite like it as well.” Her hands come to rest against the insides of Souma’s thighs, thumbs pressing tauntingly against the taut muscle there. “Maybe you could try it again for me?”

“What?” Souma’s voice cracks around the word.

“You know, tell me to fuck my mother or something.”

“I never said-! And your mother is-!”

“This is actually the opposite of what I was hoping for,” Kendappa grins. Souma silently begins scanning through her repertoire of verbal abuse for something she won’t have to commit seppuku after uttering to her queen. She’s gotten as far as “arsebiscuit” when Kendappa drops all pretense of coyness and worms her way forward to lie pressed against Souma’s chest. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, my love,” she laughs and rubs her shoulder affectionately. “You’re just really sexy when you’re working.”

“Your- My- I- _Fuck._ ”

“And this part isn’t bad either.”

“For you, maybe,” Souma groans, but cradles her own hand over Kendappa’s all the same.

“How should I make it fun for you too?” Kendappa wonders. She tugs her hand free and traces a line down the side of Souma’s chest, across her abdomen, beneath the water, between her thighs. “Would this be a good start?”

“Maybe,” Souma says plainly and tries to stuff down the sudden rush that rises through her as Kendappa’s clever fingers slip between her folds and stroke teasingly against her clit. It’s useless, though – her shudders break the surface of the water into a mess of ripples and she can’t mask the sigh that escapes her throat.

“Maybe?” Kendappa wiggles her thumb insistently.

“Maybe,” she insists again.

“Trial and error then,” Kendappa decides. She slip one finger deeper inside, keeping a steady tempo opposite her thumb, and hauls the rest of her body upward until their lips meet. Souma accepts the kiss greedily as her feet flex and fiddle against the floor of the tub and knees knock water up and over the rim. There’s water in her ears and water in her eyes, her hindbrain is to consumed with other reflexes to give a damn about the ones she’s spent so much time honing for battle, and her higher thought processing centers have temporarily lent their blood supply to other parts of her anatomy. So it comes as something of a punch to the gut when Kendappa breaks away moments later with a serious look in her eyes.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hmm…wha?” Souma shakes the water from her ears.

“There’s someone outside. Listen.”

She does – in vain for a few seconds, but sure enough, there it is: ragged breathing tinged with just a hint of a whimper; the crunching and shuffling of leaves and twigs as if someone was shuffling through them or maybe foraging-

_Like a rabbit._

She plucks the _shaken_ from the boards behind her head and sends the pair of them soaring through the slats of the high-set window. They strike their target with a surprisingly wooden _thunk_. Kendappa looks at her worriedly, “Did you miss?”

 _“Shit!”_ a voice screams from outside.

“Nope.” Souma hauls herself to her feet, fully intending hand that bunny rabbit his ass through the window if she has to, but Kendappa beats her to the punch. Before she’s managed a single step toward the window, the empress of all Nihon has pressed her nose through the slats and sent a hair brush barreling out to crack again the intruder’s skull.

 _“And stay out, you unholy panda fucker!”_ Souma stares wide-eyed at the window as Kendappa drops back into the bathwater with a laugh, her shouts still echoing from the hardwood walls. “That really _is_ fun!”

Souma blinks. “I…um…”

“Come back here now,” Kendappa pats the surface of the water, “It’s only a wild animal-”

“Is that what we’re calling him?” Souma settles gingerly back into the water.

“Indeed we are,” Kendappa hums and pulls her closer, “Indeed we are.”

Souma has several other things she’d like to call the figure hurtling through the woods and away from the royal bathhouses, but they’ll have to wait until she is slightly less…occupied. For now, she can only hope he is caught unaware of the pit traps at the edge of the garden.

* * *

“Stop slouching, maggots! It’s only your second day of training!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Recruit from Suwa! It’s good to see you on time this morning!”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t thank me, you fappy little shit! You might have made it here on time, but where in the name of everything holy are your boots?”

“Sir! My boots do not fit over my feet at the mo-”

“Tanuki balls on a garden fence! What in the hell have you done to your feet?”

“Sir, I ran ten laps around the perimeter of the castle barefoot and spent the remainder of-”

“You do not need to remind me of your orders, recruit!”

“Sir! My feet were cut while running!”

“Recruit from Suwa, did you also injure your head?”

“The fuck-”

“YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SIR.”

“Sir, the fuck, sir!

“Sassy little shit, aren’t you, recruit from Suwa? If it weren’t for the Princess’s fondness for you, I would have you dipped in tar and rolled through a chicken coup! Only an idiot continues running on injured feet! Were you unaware of the tracks that you were leaving? Did it never occur to you that you would have to report back here in the morning for further training?”

“Sir, I-”

“You will not speak until I am finished! You will wrap your feet securely until they are healed! The last thing in the world I want is to have to haul your sorry ass around because you’ve required an amputation! Is this clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Do not test my patience again, recruit, or you will find yourself a member of the latrine digging crew! The ninja that defend Shirasagi are the finest warriors this country has to offer! We do not accept infants who shit themselves at the sight of a _shaken_ or cannot think far enough in advance to protect the soles of their feet! Do you want to be a warrior?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Then today begins this squad’s weapons training. Since you are all still whiny infants and I have a zero tolerance policy for diaper changing on my training fields, we will be starting with the most basic part of a ninja’s arsenal: rope. Since I assume most of you possess more brawn than brain, you will start this training by gaining an appreciation for the fine art of _kumihimo_. You will braid a rope that is strong, but beautiful. Delicate and deadly. Your color choices will befit men and women of your rank and your patterns will be intricate without looking erratic. You will work until I am satisfied! You will abandon your roles as maggots to become artists!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Get your maggot asses moving then! Looms have been provided for you at the south end of the field. You will run to the specified area and begin working at once!”!

“Sir, yes sir!”

“And recruit from Suwa?”

“Sir!”

“That is one hell of a black eye you’re sporting!”

* * *

“Terrible color choices. Though I’m not sure ‘flashier than a skink’s tailside at dusk’ is an accurate description.”

Souma looks up from the garish tangle of orange and green some blithering idiot has had the nerve to deem beautiful enough to turn in to her for appraisal to find Kendappa leaning over her with a grin. She twists her lips into a thoughtful pucker and carefully crosses out that particular critique scrawled across the parchment at her side. She taps the butt of her brush impatiently for a few seconds, then grins as inspiration strikes. In its place, she draws out carefully:

 _Uglier than a noh mask worn on a monkey’s ass._

“Oh, that’s a lovely image,” Kendappa clicks her tongue, “And quite correct.” She tugs at the end of the rope and twists it around her index finger. “Strong, though. And feels like it has enough teeth to hold knots well.”

“That’s true,” Souma agrees, “It’s still ugly, though. So…half marks, I think.”

“You’re just looking for ways to punish them now.”

“Punish?” Souma laughs, “I’ll reward them when they are perfect, and not before.”

“Such a harsh mistress.”

Souma catches her gaze. “Would you prefer an army lacking in discipline?”

“Of course not,” Kendappa laughs and settles herself onto the floor, “I’m just teasing you. I’ll stop if it’s irritating to you.”

“No,” Souma sighs. She rests her cheek against Kendappa’s shoulder and breathes deeply – the orange blossoms and violets dried and tied into the folds of the empress’s kimono are among the few things she consistently finds soothing. “It’s not. I’ve just been at this since dawn.”

“I understand,” Kendappa wraps a protective arm around her and soothes a hand against her cheek, “Why don’t you rest for a bit?”

Souma pulls away from the shallow burrow she’s made for herself in Kendappa’s robes. “I have to finish this,” she groans, “There’s only three more.”

“I’ll help you then.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Souma smiles tightly, “I’m paid to do this after all.”

“By me,” Kendappa reminds her.

“Which is all the more reason why you ought to let me finish. Now,” Souma spins a rope around her fingers and grins ferally, “Be a good Highness and drop the rope, or I’ll be forced to tie you up and take it by force.”

Kendappa’s eyebrows raise, ever so slightly. “Oh, ho. You’d threaten your queen with a good time, would you?”

“Oh, it is a very serious promise, my lady,” Souma assures her, “Very serious, indeed.” She loops a length of rope around Kendappa’s wrists to prove her point.

“Then I am afraid I shall have to keep hold of this rope,” Kendappa smirks, and Souma is suddenly _very_ aware that she can probably slap the same poor grade on all of the remaining work without much difficulty. Better yet, she can test their strength right here and now if she can just reach –

 _Ah, fuck it._ The orange and green monstrosity has at least two meters to it, and if she adds the bit in her own hands…

If Kendappa were in a mood to struggle – which she most decidedly is not – it might take more than ten seconds to secure a loop beneath her shoulders, and certainly more than a minute to tie the harness up and around her neck, lassoed beneath her breasts and back again to secure her arms. The knee that she’s pressing between Kendappa’s shoulder blades might actually be a necessity instead of a performance piece and the squeals pouring from Kendappa’s mouth and nose might be a bit more guttural and less…lewd.

Still, she reckons the end effect probably couldn’t be much lovelier than the sight that greets her now. There may have been only the barest amount of struggle, but it’s enough to leave Kendappa disheveled and red in the face. Her robes are tilted helter skelter and drooping from her shoulders, sticking out between bits of rope. It’s difficult to discern her breasts amongst the mess of swaddling fabric, but if she follows the bits of orange and brown she can find their rough outline: smooshed and wadded into the prison she’s created for them. She grins to herself; the opportunity to tie up the empress is a rare one.

“What now?” Kendappa asks.

“Hmmm?” Souma wonders how long she’s been lost in her own little reverie and, moreover, how intently she’s been staring. A hot flush wells up in her cheeks at the thought, which she instantly tries and fails to shake away. _Next?_ She hadn’t planned up to this part – how was she supposed to know what came next? “Well, I guess…next…” She drops to her knees and shuffles forward to rest her hands against Kendappa’s thighs. “Are you sure it’s not too tight?”

“Are you stalling?” Kendappa laughs. She strains forward, mouth open, and Souma rushes forward to meet her before she topples over. Their mouths meet with a crash, all hungry lips and messy slobbering. She’d hoped this might be a bit more graceful, but fevered need has a way of turning even ninja into blushing kitchen girls. Her hands clutch at the folds of Kendappa’s robes, pulling and yanking to reveal more flesh beneath. Why on earth she didn’t think to pull her robes off before she tied the ropes around is beyond her, but it does add a dimension of… _something_ \- fun, maybe? Maybe a challenge. She’s always been fond of those… Either way, Kendappa’s shoulder is bared and just within reach of her lips-

She’s barely managed to graze her teeth across a centimeter of it before she’s stopped dead in her tracks by the sound of her door slamming open against the wall.

Before she can wrench her head around to see who would dare enter her chambers without announcing themselves, it slams shut again.

“What the hell?” she mumbles irritably against Kendappa’s skin.

“I don’t think that was the wind,” Kendappa says seriously.

Souma sighs deeply and hauls herself to her feet. She pulls a blanket from her cabinets and drapes it over Kendappa’s shoulders. “I’ll have a look,” she grumbles and traipses to the door.

The hallway is empty, which only adds to her frustration. She casts a quick glance back to the interior of the room, now concerned that the noise might have been a distraction to mask some larger plan, but there’s only the quiet roar of the fire and a slightly disgruntled Kendappa in the middle of the room. She turns back to the hallway and nearly takes the head off the princess she’s sworn to protect in her haste.

“Princess Tomoyo!” she yelps, pulling her arm back before it strikes against her head, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m so sorry to intrude, Souma,” Tomoyo bows, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m…I’m _fine_ ,” she rakes a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends, “What did you need?”

“Well, I was hoping to have a word with you,” she says and produces a length of red and black braided rope, “Kurogane has difficulties with the fingers on his left hand – I seem to have caused some damage to the ligaments when I restrained him.”

“Yes, I remember painfully well, your Highness.”

“You see, he’s been working all day at this,” she proffers the length of rope to Souma, “It’s been difficult, but he’s adapted and made it work. So, I was hoping you might accept it.”

“Oh.” Souma lifts the rope to eyelevel for a better look. In all honesty, she hadn’t noticed that he had not handed one over to her before she retired for the night, but she wasn’t about to admit that now. It wasn’t bad work, only tardy. And she had her suspicions that it might have made its way into her hands a few minutes earlier if only… “Why isn’t he handing this to me himself?”

“He tried, but said you ordered him away. I thought I might ease some of the tension. He’s right here, if you wish to speak to him directly.”

“I’m very busy,” Souma drones. She hands the rope back to Tomoyo. “Tell him it’s excellent work, but he’ll still be running laps come the morning.”

“Thank you, Souma,” Tomoyo smiles brightly, “I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

“Let’s hope so,” Souma mutters as she closes the door. She slips a short blade from its sheath at her side and turns back to Kendappa, intent now on freeing her queen from her restraints. The moment has passed and anything further just feels like added sexual frustration. She drops to her knees and snaps a few of the ties, allowing Kendappa to shrug herself free. “I apologize for the interruption,” she says, gathering bits of frayed rope.

Kendappa laughs this off and kisses her warmly on the lips. “My dear Souma, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were embarrassed.”

“Should I not be?” Souma wonders, “Aren’t you?”

Kendappa shrugs, sending more bits of rope scattering across the floor. “There are worse things in life than being caught in a compromising position, especially when it’s with someone you love.”

“I see,” Souma says slowly, “I suppose as the empress you can afford such a cavalier attitude.”

“Of course,” Kendappa laughs, “And if you’d like, I can have the little brat killed.”

“You sister would never forgive you.”

“No,” Kendappa bites at her lip, “She surely wouldn’t. And I have a feeling you wouldn’t either.”

“Tsk,” Souma snorts, “Just let him walk in here one more time-”

“Heads will roll,” Kendappa laughs again and pulls Souma’s head and shoulders to rest in her lap. Souma chuckles and weaves her fingers through with Kendappa’s. Her frustration is fading quickly, and snoozing in front of the fire holds a sort of _glowy_ appeal. “I do wonder,” Kendappa murmurs, an irritable edge coloring her voice, “Which of those two is going to prove the bigger nuisance.”

* * *

“Maggots! You have failed to become artists!”

“Sir!”

“This is to be expected! You are not artists, you are killing machines!”

“Sir!”

“However, I am still disappointed in each and every one of you! It sickens me to see your faces! Therefore your task for today is to practice stealth! I have given the members of my guard orders to show no mercy in hand to hand combat should you be discovered!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“And if you should be discovered by myself, I will personally eviscerate you!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Now be on your merry way, maggots! Be invisible! Be silent!”

“…”

“YOU CAN ANSWER THAT.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

* * *

“There’s a fairly exciting fight going on just outside the west wing.”

Souma smirks and pours herself a cup of tea. “Oh?”

“Indeed,” Kendappa smirks from the doorway, “Kaori, I believe, taking on two of your newest recruits.”

“How are they faring?” Souma takes a deep draught of tea.

“About as well as one might expect when they’ve had no formal weapons training,” Kendappa seats herself across the table, “So cruel.”

Souma waves this away. “They’re all proficient in some form of combat, or they wouldn’t have been admitted. This is simply to demonstrate that they’re not nearly proficient enough. Tea?”

“I see,” Kendappa nods an affirmative and graciously accepts the cup, “And how does that translate to their commanding officer hiding out in the servants’ kitchen, sipping tea and idling the day away?”

“I am neither hiding nor idling, your Majesty,” Souma smiles and taps at a scroll, unrolled across the table, “I am reviewing battle plans and planning for tomorrow’s training.”

“So shall it be humiliation and death, or just death?” 

“Tomorrow will be dedicated to assessing their current skills. From there I will break them into groups to work on their weakest areas-”

“And then the day after that, you’ll be off to the woods with them for two weeks survival training.”

“ _And_ combat training,” Souma corrects, pouring over the scroll, “And after that-” She snaps her jaw shut as Kendappa drums loudly on the table with her fingers. “I’m sorry, you were looking for something.”

Kendappa only smiles. “I was looking for _you_.”

“Oh,” Souma swallows heavily, “I’m sorry – I should have realized. What does your Majesty need?”

“You can stop that,” Kendappa says seriously, “I’ve sent the servants away.”

“But…why?”

“I’ve tried, for the past few days, tempt you into a few hours of forgetful relaxation before you slip away into the wilderness and have been denied by cruel circumstance in each and every instance,” Kendappa grins, “So, do forgive me, my dear Souma, but I am simply going to have to intrude on your work time to make this happen.” 

“Oh,” Souma’s eyes grow wide and blood burns its way into her cheeks once again, “That’s…that’s immeasurably kind of you, Kendappa.”

“It’s also immeasurably selfish of me,” Kendappa laughs, “I have to admit that watching you work has a certain… _effect_ on me. You really are all the more remarkable for the way you slip so easily between the roles of soldier and blushing housewife.”

“That’s very dramatic of you, your highness.”

“Cheeky,” Kendappa swats at her from across the table, “What do you say we set this mess aside and take in the sunset together?”

“I would say that sounds wonderful,” Souma says eagerly. She rolls the scroll and tosses it to the corner and refills their cups as Kendappa scoots open the _shoji_ to reveal a magnificent view of the sun dangling just above the lake. She pointedly ignores her seat on her journey back to the table and settles instead into Souma’s side.

“This will do nicely,” she declares, though Souma can’t help but wonder if it’s not a contradiction when she casually pushes the both of them to the floor. Sprawled on her side, it’s much more difficult to see what Kendappa is up to, but it would be impossible not to notice the direction of her creeping hand as it slides beneath her belt and fumbles with the fastenings.

“I thought you wanted to watch the sun set?” Souma teases.

“Oh, I am watching it,” Kendappa answers, “Aren’t you?”

“Concentration is difficult when present company insists on being distracting,” Souma mumbles. She hauls herself up on one elbow to better get at the belt fastenings. In one swift movement she has it off and flying across the room. “Better?”

“Much,” Kendappa nods approvingly, “Though I think the tunic is going to have to go, too.” She clucks her tongue reprovingly and runs her hands up Souma’s thighs, up under the edge of the garment, and lifts it to her waist. 

Souma shrugs her shoulders free and pulls the entire ensemble over her head. The breeze strikes her bare skin and chills through to her bones. She rubs at her arms and shoulders, “I think we may freeze before the sun hits the horizon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kendappa says, fiddling with the strings and fastenings of her own robe, “I made sure I wore enough for two.” She grins and crawls overtop of Souma, who helpfully unties the last folds of her obi and casts it to the side, and sprawls the robe open to cover them both. “So long as you stay here in my little cavern, I think you should be warm enough.”

It is indeed warm beneath the silk of the kimono, and warmer still as her face is covered with hot, lingering kisses. They trail down her neck and lap at her collar bone, nuzzle between her breasts, and trace a staccato line about her belly button. The silk weighs heavily against her chest as Kendappa slips lower, taking with her any structural support for this “cavern.” The sensation is at once tranquil and smothering – as if she’s breathing underwater and slipping into a slow daze. Kendappa’s hands, still miraculously cold despite the amount of heat they’ve stirred, grapple at her ankles, shuffling them wide and high to rest at either side of her buttocks. Souma sucks in a deep breath as cold fingers slip between her thighs and tease into her folds.

“Are you sure,” she gasps, lifting the neckline of the kimono, “That you wouldn’t prefer-”

“I would prefer,” Kendappa grins, “If you were simply to lie back and enjoy yourself.” She presses the pad of her thumb against Souma’s clitoris for emphasis. “We can fall back on the normal routine when you return, if you’d like.”

“That would-” Souma begins to say, but most of her voice is stolen away by the sharp rush of air that comes pouring in over her vocal cords as Kendappa wiggles the tip of her thumb playfully. She bites at her lip and decides to drop whatever argument she was about to make. Kendappa hums happily at her silence and sets about delivering every bit of sweet torture she’s capable of: licks and nips that set Souma’s hips twisting, gentle caresses and building pressure that send a jolt of fire ringing through her body, strong enough to arch her spine and curl her toes.

Just as she feels as if she cannot stand anymore – with Kendappa’s tongue flicking swiftly across her clitoris and hands groping tightly at her thighs – the exquisite torture ends just as abruptly as it began. She gapes at the ceiling for a long moment, catching her breath and wondering if she’s gathered enough of it to complain, or if she needs to. Kendappa is moving again, creeping slowly upward until the crown of her head peeks out from under the kimono. She’s grinning wildly, fully aware of the frustration she’s causing and enjoying every second of it. She leans over Souma’s face, until their lips are barely brushing with each breath. “I wanted to kiss you,” she says simply, and does.

Kendappa’s tongue twirls graceful circles about Souma’s mouth and lips, mirrored below by her thumb and forefinger. For all her body might have relaxed in the intervening seconds, it winds just as tightly within miliseconds. Her thighs tremble as her abdomen twists into a knot, fingers clutch reflexively at the floorboards. Kendappa kisses her fiercely, drinking down all of the moans and shudders of breath that her fingers tease free. Her head snaps back, her hips lift from the floor as the world goes cold, then parts to a sudden rush of warmth that ricochets all the way down to her toes. 

Kendappa pulls away with a gentle smile. “And that is only a small bit of what I shall miss about you.”

Souma threads her fingers into Kendappa’s hair and pulls her back close. She pants noisily against her cheek, trying to gather her thoughts into something resembling a coherent thought. “I can,” she says at last, “More. I’ll miss you more.” She bites her tongue – slow and stupid as it is – and decides that some things are far better shown than said.

It isn’t until later, when they’re lying in an exhausted, tangled heap, that it occurs to Souma that they’ve missed the entire sunset.

* * *

“Damn, Souma’s in a foul fucking mood today.”

“No shit. I thought she’d be happy only three people got caught yesterday, but instead I thought she was gonna rip my head right off.”

“She needs to get laid.”

“No.”

“Come off it, Kurogane. She does and you know it.”

“She really, really doesn’t.”

“Look who’s all fucking noble.”

“I can shut your mouth for you.”

“Ooooh~ Speaking of yesterday, where’d you manage to hide all day?”

“He was jacking off in the bathouse.”

“Fuck off.”

“No really, Kurogane. No one saw you until well after ten.”

“Down by the lake.”

“Aw, damn. I should have thought of that. All those trees – you could hide in plain sight of the castle! Super effective, man!”

“Too effective.”

“Hey, why is Kurogane running away?”

“Maybe he saw a ghost or something.”

“Shit, here comes Souma. Look busy!”

* * *

_Epilogue_

“Look kid, I understand.” Kurogane sighs and plucks a _shuriken_ from the woodwork above Syaoran’s head. “It’s a big castle and you were bound to get lost.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“Stop shaking, kid.” He claps a hand on Syaoran’s shoulder, “It was a warning shot – it wasn’t ever going to hit you.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Kid, are you embarrassed?”

“I’m so- what? I guess? A little? No, more than a little-”

“It’s because you’re a decent person,” Kurogane shuffles the quaking kid back toward the hallway, “Anyone would feel the same. But I’m telling you here and now that I’m not embarrassed, so you don’t have to be either.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he turns left to guide Syaoran back to his own rooms, “There’s far worse things in life than being caught naked with someone you love.”

“Oh,” Syaoran’s breathing seems to even out as he considers this, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Kurogane huffs, “I overheard a wise woman say it once.”

“Overheard…?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, kid.”


End file.
